Gord woke up tired. It was getting annoying, honestly.

There was a strange blindfold on his face that he ripped off. He looked around, confirming he was still in his alcove with Cad.

Weird.

Nonetheless, a satisfied smile slowly spread across his face.

The previous day had been eventful, for sure, but it couldn't compare to the night.

Last night, Gord had met a god.

Awkwardly holding his head to his chest, Cad had picked Gord up as the fight ended and carried him back to their alcove, claiming he'd fainted from the stress. Embarrassing, but unfortunately, believable.

The Godsmark on his skull dimmed over time, but Gord's connection to the spirit in the rock only strengthened. He could clearly feel Sleepy's presence at the back of his mind, slowly pulsing in time with the ebb and flow of his emotions.

It was clearly a distinct entity though, with its own feelings and desires. The sheer rage he'd felt towards the wolves was.. unnatural. Gord was not an angry person. Yet when his brother was threatened, Gord didn't cower in fear or run to get someone more capable. He'd dived in himself. For a moment there, he'd needed the wolves blood, needed its destruction like a bird needed the sky. It could only be the spirit's influence.

That night, Cad, sleeping in their shared room for once, had interrogated Gord for everything he was worth. He was infinitely curious about how the method of bonding a spirit differed for Marked, as the stories focused on the flashy abilities rather than the nitty-gritty details.

Gord wasn't much help, as the entire process seemed dictated by the spirit. It had essentially stonewalled him, barely responding to anything until the wolf attack. Even now, he had no idea why it had responded when it did.

Maybe intense emotions or situations were the secret? Either way, Gord had gone to sleep that night resigned to having to speak with Eldest Mother, to help get a handle on whatever was going on with his supposed totem. He just didn't know enough.

Then it happened.

He'd still been afflicted with those troublesome dreams, in fact, ever since the dream catcher, they'd gotten worse. He remembered more details about them now, but nothing solid, just vague impressions of danger and a pervasive sense of confusion, anxiety and dread.

Expecting more of the same, Gord laid his head on his bed roll and closed his eyes.

"You have made Me wait, boy."

Gord tried to clap his hands over his ears, but he had neither. The vague sense of danger he'd felt before was now a blaring siren in his soul, every instinct screaming at him to run, flee from the promise of death staring down at him. Most of all, Gord felt very, very small.

What the-? Is this another blighted dream?

"This is no dream, mortal. I Marked you at your birth but you denied the call. Do not do this thing again."

Oh shit. Oh shit!

"Silence. I will be known to you as Pyrra. As My Marked, you shall do My bidding and act as My agent within the mortal realm. In return, I offer you dominion over fire and stone."

Gord would have scoffed at the incredulity, if he wasn't so affected by the very nature of communing with such a powerful spirit. The gargantuan presence pressed against his mind, straining and stretching his sanity nearly to breaking point. Sleepy angrily hummed in the back of his consciousness, trying to lash out at whatever was causing Gord such stress. The little spirit's defiance reminded him that he was the son of Greg, chief of the Ashwalkers and a Marked of Pyrra apparently. He could handle pressure.

That's impossible. Skyfather and Earthmother barred man from control over fire. You don't have the authority to give that to me.

He'd heard the stories. Skyfather and Earthmother were the only spirits with the power to shape fire. Who was this Pyrra?

"Laws of a bygone era. When the Supremes put this stricture in place, men were little more than beasts, speaking in grunts and worshipping mud. Even then, Nera's Transgression allowed man access to fire regardless. Things rarely change in the spirit realm but when they do, chaos and opportunity follow. The Six have grown lazy and complacent, content in their excesses without thought for their duties. As My Marked, you will aid Me in usurping them."

Usurping? Was Pyrra a new god?!

Crazy as it came off, it would explain a lot.

"As far as your mortal mind can comprehend, yes. You will aid Me in this endeavour."

This still sounded like a trick of some sort. Everyone knew that fire was the domain of the Supreme Spirits and they jealously guarded it. Drawing their ire was always a bad idea. It's why when Nera gave the first shaman his Flame, Earthmother cursed her to be eaten and regrown over the course of a moon forever. It was a stark reminder that though the Supremes rarely interfered in the human realm, even the gods existed under their power.

Gord knew that there had to be more to the story, the Six were the most powerful gods for a reason. Some no name upstart Great Spirit needed a lot more than a weird Godsmark to upend the hierarchy that had existed since the world began. Truth be told, dominion over fire was an excellent edge over the other denizens of the spirit realm, but Pyrra was only one god. Still, it's not like he had much of a choice. He was already Marked. Once in place, only death can remove a Godsmark, not even the god that originally placed it. Which meant if he didn't agree...

I don't exactly have many options here, Great Spirit Pyrra. I accept, then I'll be hunted down by all the most powerful Marked, all trained from birth, and likely die. I decline, then you'll find another Marked and I'll definitely die.

"Your assistance is not in question. However, I recognise the scale of the task I must undertake and how it will affect you as My representative. As such, I have procured an advantage for you."

At that, a lance of pure power shot out of the terrifying presence and gored through Gord's mind.

For a moment, one excruciating, crystalline moment, all he knew was pain.

Then lucidity crashed back in on Gord with all the force of a wave on the shore. Sleepy roared in his mind, lashing out at the source of the pain. Gord only just barely held the totem spirit back, refusing to even imagine the consequences for attacking a god directly.

"You will train and grow proficient at using your abilities. An unexpected benefit of you resisting the call at first is that none of the other Great Spirits know of your existence and cannot send their Marked after you. This will not always be true. Use this time wisely."

And like the morning fog, Pyrra just dissipated. That's when Gord woke up, having had the least restful sleep of his life.

However, he was no longer just Gord. The smile threatened to widen past his cheeks as he reflected. He had looked a god straight in the eye (figuratively) and survived. Not only that, he was now officially a shaman. He'd had direct contact with his first spirit. Sleepy didn't count of course, Gord hadn't even se-

"AHHHH!!"

"Hissss"

A cat-sized two-legged lizard thing covered in moss (?) leapt back at Gord's scream. Gord's scream woke Cad up, who saw the creature and immediately pulled his herb pouch to him. Taking out a pinch of some strange smelling herb, Cad lit it with a small jet of flame from his pinky, right there in the middle of his palm, inhaling the wispy smoke rising from the plant. His eyes glowed green, coincidentally the same colour as his normal eyes.

"We are not enemies."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The creature, a bit calmer now, tilted its head at the budding shaman. It didn't have the telltale green eyes of an animal under shaman control, but it didn't attack. In fact, as Gord watched, frozen in his bed roll, the creature started nudging at his legs.

Gord and Cad shared a glance.

"Sleepy?"

The lizard thing chirped in response, then a full-body sneeze sent it to the ground, where it mewled weakly as its arms were too short to push it back upright. Gord watched Cad melt in real-time.

"This is the cutest thing I've seen in my life," Cad declared. "Gord, I want one."

Cad rushed over and clutched it against his chest. Gord rolled his eyes.

If this was Sleepy, he didn't look like much. Kinda ugly if he was being honest.

"Chirp"

Okay, that was definitely Sleepy. A pulse of indignation hummed in the back of Gord's mind in response to his thought. He wasn't sure if Sleepy took offense at calling him underwhelming or calling him a male. A buzz of even more indignation let Gord know it was both.

Cad, consummate medicine man that he hoped to be, was stroking her. Sleepy was about the size of a cat or small dog, had the head and skin of a lizard, the teeth of a crocodile, walked on two legs like a bird, had two diminutive arms at the front of her body and a long, straight tail. What Gord had thought was moss was actually a soft, light brown down tipped with red.

He thought back to the powerful roar that had ripped itself out of him. At the time, he'd thought that was from Sleepy. That massive roar couldn't have come from this lizard bird thing, right? What even was she?

I bet Cad knows.

"So what is she?"

"She? Is this Sleepy?"

Gord nodded.

Cad, cradling the strange creature, was rubbing the softer, shorter feathers of her underbelly, making Sleepy coo and scratch at the air in pleasure. The humming in the back of Gord's mind radiated content.

"I have no blighted idea. I'd thought she was some deformed bird, but this is clearly a lizards tail under these feathers. And she has a lizard head but three claws on her feet like a bird. I don't even know what's up with these arms. Where does she even come from?"

"Oh yeah I still haven't told you. You won't guess what happened last night." Gord smiled, looking forward to blowing Cad's mind.

"You talked to your patron god, right?"

Cad was too preoccupied with Sleepy to see Gord frown.

"Well. Yeah. How did you know?"

"You have to get better control of this Marked stuff, Gord. I knew because your Godsmark was flashing red in your sleep. Why do you think I wrapped your head in hide? It's really obvious."

Hmm. He's right, that's riskier than ever, especially now. I should put it back on.

He picked up the thin strip of hide, just wide enough to cover his Godsmark, and tied it around his head, making sure his temples were covered.

"I agree, but it should get better as of today."

Gord told Cad everything Pyrra had told him. Cad's face gradually transitioned from interest, to disbelief, to shock, and finally, to worry.

"Well, you're deep in it. Shit, man, a new Great Spirit? I didn't even think that could happen. The idea of a Great Spirit with a fire aspect makes me uncomfortable. Blight, imagine a spirit beast that could control fire. That's something that can happen now that this Pyrra exists. Blight."

Cad started pacing around the small cavern, Sleepy still cradled in his arms.

"Not only that, there's the issue of your patron's objective. Gods most often ask their Marked to kill another god's Marked, usually before a specific day for whatever spiritual reasons. If your god is warring with the Six themselves, they will have powerful, no, the most powerful Marked hunting you. You're lucky there are no other Marked in the Frontier, but several of them lead powerful tribes in the Heartlands. There could be hundreds of wise women scrying for you. Every bird, every lizard or rodent could be reporting to an enemy medicine man. We're nowhere near ready for this. And those are just the ones we know about. There are 18 Great Spirits, or I guess 19 now, and we don't know how many of them even have Marked and might be a threat. Blight, we're not ready for this."

Cad had a tendency to overthink. It was both a strength and a weakness. Sadly, this time he was right, it looked bleak.

"Unfortunately, this is my life we're talking about. As ill-prepared as we might be, I have no choice but to face it. And Pyrra did say I have some sort of advantage. Could've told me what it is though." Gord grumbled.

Cad's head snapped up.

"That's the answer isn't it? You simply have to get stronger."

Sleepy chirped in agreement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually, Sleepy started getting hungry, so Gord and Cad left their shared space and went out to get food, the little abomination happily running around their legs, exploring the area. They came upon a larger cavern where several tribes mixed. The sound of mirth and background chatter rang through the stale, underground air.

Cad walked off to find some meat for Sleepy, while Gord had noticed his grandfather and went to speak to him. Gord felt a mental tug in the direction Sleepy had gone off to.

That will be useful.

"If it isn't the Wolfbane himself, come over here my boy!"

Gord couldn't help but grin at his granddad's enthusiasm. He'd always encouraged Gord to pick up a spear and be more like his brothers. Now he'd publicly squared up against not only a dire wolf pack, but their spirit beast alpha. The old man had likely been telling everyone all day.

"Hey grandpa," Gord said, unable to keep the warmth out of his tone. "I'm guessing you heard about what happened."

Gord's grandfather, Gradal, was a spry, lively old man, big and thick of muscle like his son and grandsons, but withered slightly from age. White hair framed a deeply lined face, with sparkling hazel eyes, eyes just like Gord's, that belied his age. He walked with a wooden crutch as his leg abruptly cut off just under the knee.

"Heard? I had a shaman show me a memory directly! I was immensely proud of Gett for leading the defense but imagine my shock when I see my most bashful grandchild snatch up glory for himself! You were amazing! Truly, my bloodline has been blessed!"

Gord blushed heavily at his grandfather's gushing. Gradal had always supported Gord, but had secretly harboured worries that he wasn't hard enough to survive if the worst happened and his brothers and father weren't able to protect him. Watching Gord run straight at a pack of wolves, all of whom were either his size or larger, and make them all back down was one of the proudest moments of his life. The fact that it was in defense of Gett, one of the most skilled warriors the Ashwalkers had ever seen, proved to him that all his worries were misguided. Gord was a son of Greg through and through.

Gord felt a burst of happiness and intense desire in the back of his head. Cad must have found food.

Gradal hobbled over to Gord, pulling him into a hug that involved a bit too much back slapping and hair mussing. Gord, still red as a fox, mumbled an embarrassed thanks. Gradal, never one to regulate his volume, had started talking from halfway across the cavern, making everyone turn and stare at them.

"It's really not as great as you think, granddad. I went in with no plan and nearly got myself killed."

"Nonsense! An entire cavern full of hunters and warriors and it's the Ashwalker men who step up and do something. You should be proud my boy. Had Gett died, the entire defence would have crumbled. I brought up making Wolfbane your official name to the Mother, but that shrivelled old bat loathes the idea of doing anything that would bring a smile to my face." Gradal grumbled.

"Still though, Gord Wolfbane you are to me and anyone whose life was saved by your brave act. Until your next great exploit, of course." he added with a wink.

Gord recognised what his grandfather was doing. By loudly proclaiming him as Wolfbane and saying the only reason he didn't get a naming ritual was tribe politics, he was bypassing the Mother's control of the narrative. Everyone knew how important shamans were, but everyone also knew they loved these little power plays. He was now Gord Wolfbane to the non-shaman majority, if only to stick it to the overly-controlling Shamans Circles.

Greg hated politics and disdained it at every opportunity. Gradal on the other hand, loved going head-to-head with the Mother at her own game. Luckily, he was shrewd enough to hold his own.

Unfortunately, he didn't have all the information. Gord knew why the Mother had tried to downplay his involvement. More attention was the last thing he needed considering his discovery wouldn't only threaten him, but the entire tribe. And say what you will about the Eldest Mother, but she put the tribe above all else.

That reminded him of another unfortunate reality. He'd have to tell the Mother about both Pyrra and Sleepy. Her and Gradal were the most knowledgeable people in the tribe and knowledge was the one thing he needed more than power right now.

Gord felt the mental tug grow a tiny bit stronger and turned his head. Cad and Sleepy were returning.

"Cad, my boy! Tell me you were there for my grandson's glorious battle with the spirit beast alpha!"

Gord couldn't help but laugh. Already the story was embellished beyond actuality.

Cad responded with a smirk of his own.

"Not only was I there, I had the best vantage point. I thought we were safe when Wolfbane nearly chased the pack off with merely his presence, but then the alpha came to challenge him to direct combat! We're just lucky Gett and Wolfbane were there."

Cad and Gradal grinned at each other. They had always got along like a hut on fire. Cad was charming, handsome and above all, sharp. Gradal saw a younger version of himself reflected in the man.

"Shut up you two. Did you find Sleepy some food?"

"Yeah and I had it sent back to our room. I told everyone she was a deformed bird we'd found but I didn't want them questioning why this 'bird' had teeth."

Gradal looked down at Sleepy, intrigued.

"Bird with teeth, eh? Where did you find this odd creature?"

Sleepy chirped up at him, then started biting his crutch.

"Stop that, Sleepy. It's a long story, grandpa. I actually needed your input. We need to meet with dad and the Mother."

Gradal, realising this was serious, lost his smile and looked up with a concerned frown.

"What's going on? Are you alright?"

"I am right now, but I may not be soon."

Gradal understood the subtext. Gord didn't want to go into specifics in public. He nodded.

"Okay. Greg and the Mother have been in meetings since yesterday trying to figure out how the wolves got so deep in here and how to prevent it happening again. I can steal them away for a spoke or two though. I'll send word when we can meet."

Thanking his granddad and making his exit, Gord led the trio back to their alcove. On the way, whispers of "Wolfbane" followed him, spreading through the gathered tribesfolk as he passed. Nods of gruff acknowledgement from grizzled warriors and furtive, darting glances from pretty girls made Gord blush again, but not from embarrassment. He'd never had much attention on him growing up. He'd always been the runt, the afterthought of Garkal's bloodline. Now he was getting the full hero treatment.

It made him feel... weirdly good about himself. There was a warm ball of pride in his belly that grew with each look sent his way. This was what power felt like.

Gord liked it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A spear clattered to the ground in front of them. Gord and Cad looked up.

They'd gotten back to their room with no problems. Sleepy attacked the pile of dried meat that had been left there immediately, ripping and tearing with great enthusiasm but little effect. Her claws and teeth were too small. Gord laughed, while Cad fell for the little freak yet again.

Cad had fetched a knife from one of his pouches and the two of them sat down, cutting up pieces of meat to throw to Sleepy, who loved trying to catch them out of the air. Watching her feathers softly bounce as she jumped was oddly hypnotic.

The trance was broken by the spear and the group of large men behind it.

"Who are you?" said Gord, being as non-confrontational as possible. They looked threatening but he was the son of the most powerful chief in the Frontier. They wouldn't just attack him.

The man in front, a blond man lacking any identifying tribal sigils, spoke first.

"Pick it up, Wolfbane."

"You know I won't. Tell me who you are or next time I won't ask as nicely."

The man was challenging him to a duel. Gord couldn't actually believe it. Duels could be fought for two reasons. Honour or glory. Honour duels were to the death and were generally only for hated enemies, while glory duels were generally political maneuvers, fought until submission or incapacitation with a shaman on standby.

Gord, or rather, Wolfbane, was an unknown factor in the tribemeld. He'd never been part of the inter-tribal scheming and maneuvering, so everyone had dismissed him. Until he publicly put himself directly under the torchlight. Now, someone wanted to test him. Or knock him, and therefore the Ashwalkers, down a peg. A lifetime of seeing his brothers and once, his father, receiving challenges and winning made him want to accept just on principle.

But Gord wasn't stupid. He'd never been in a real fight in his life, let alone a duel with what looked like a hardened killer. He knew how to fight, of course, but only theoretically. He'd been taught by the best warriors in the tribe, his brothers Gett and Gora, but they could never bring themselves to actually hurt him. He looked too much like their mother.

Not to mention normal people could not challenge shamans. But he couldn't let them know he was one.

Blondie had brought an audience. Of cronies no doubt. Regardless, as much as Gord hated it, he couldn't refuse in front of them. He represented the Ashwalkers now.

"This isn't about me. It's about you, 'hero'."

That confirmed it. He wouldn't identify himself so on the off chance he lost, his tribe wouldn't suffer the shame. This was a political hit.

The problem was, Gord couldn't accept the duel either. He knew he'd lose.

They stared directly at each other for a few tense moments. He needed to de-escalate.

Goed opened his mouth to speak, when Sleepy hissed and savagely attacked the man's foot. Again, she did absolutely no damage.

"Buried bird. Get off me."

He kicked her away in annoyance.

Instantly Gord stood up and got in his face, pushing him back into his friends. Cad was even quicker, smoothly grabbing the spear and resting the point at his neck when he tried to strike back at Gord. A drop of blood welled up under the polished stone blade.

Everything went utterly still. Only Sleepy's mewing cries of pain cut through the air, disturbing the delicate silence. Gord felt the explosive rage building.

Well, that's one way to lower the tension. Shit.

They were in another standoff, even more tense this time. Cad had picked up the spear, but he was an acolyte shaman. The man couldn't hurt him. Not without heavy consequences.

Blondie's eyes flicked around, before finally setting in determination.

He's gonna do it.

"Message for Gord, son of Greg. Is this a bad time?"